


The Blatant and the Subdued

by FrostedHolly



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Violence, Boys Being Boys, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kakashi is completely innocent, M/M, Mild Gore, Necrophilia, Obsessive Behavior, Only kissing, Snuff, Stalking, its snuff please tread lightly, kind of?, obito is fucking insane, read the tags omfg, spoilers in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedHolly/pseuds/FrostedHolly
Summary: Obito's never wanted anybody more than he wants Kakashi on their anniversary day.Too bad they've only met once, and Obito's never felt so final.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	The Blatant and the Subdued

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this one seems a bit rushed, but this one took me since october 3rd to get writing and i really wanted to get it out. i wanted to gift yall a little something for halloween 👻 just be mindful when going into this one. if violence isnt your thing, then read carefully, or just don’t read at all ❤️

Obito watches with immense interest as a tall man stands from a couch, gentle hands dog-earing a page before closing the book. 

He sighs like a pining fucking schoolgirl as the other bends in a satisfying stretch, back arching inwards and arms above his head in a wake of quivering muscles and lean limbs. He barely has enough time to duck below the window as the man turns, because he's so distracted by the sight of the man. He doesn't get worried, though— doesn't get the anxiety that should come with the prospect of getting caught, because he's been doing this for just under a year now. 

Perhaps he's a little nervous, but the excitement of it all does well to snuff it out. He's probably just tense because tomorrow's the special day.

Exactly one day under a year ago, he'd met Hatake Kakashi. He remembers the encounter very vividly— it had been the _one_ time he'd been able to openly speak to the man, and have the man speak to the man, and have the man speak back to him, speaking words only meant for each other. 

Obito can't necessarily say that what he's been doing isn't crossing some kind of moral line. Kneeling on the grass, peeking through Kakashi's window in the middle of the night, jumping at every small sound around him that isn't made by Kakashi or himself because he doesn't want to be watched (and he realizes the irony of that statement, don't ask). It's all definitely a part of something completely forbidden.

How can he stop though, when he's done this for so long? He simply can't, not when he knows everything about Kakashi that he does. He's tall, but no taller than Obito himself, and he's got these nice ass shoulders, all broad and way past the shape that they should be at sixteen years of age— what Obito wouldn't give to wrap his arms around them. His body is mostly slim, which does match his age, but it makes him look a lot less strong than he really is. These things are some of the most polarizing features about Kakashi.

Like the fact that he'd rather be silent and observe than socialize and be in the spotlight, even though everything about him demands attention. Like, he's got this wild fucking hairstyle— it's naturally silver and always sticks upwards in this endearing way that has Obito helplessly attracted. It's like that even after the man takes a shower, all gravity-defying and blatantly a pain to manage. It looks nearly infuriating, but Obito would have him no other way. 

Obito's also learned that Kakashi's the son of a man named _Hatake Sakumo,_ who was apparently a great man who was widely respected and loved by the people of his town. Something must have happened, though, because people don't talk about the man anymore, and any time Obito asks around for answers, he's only ever met with awkward eyes and shameful silence. He's never heard Kakashi himself speak about his father, nor has he ever seen or heard them interact, but Obito's best guess is that the man moved away with Kakashi's mother and left their son here. He's never seen or heard about Kakashi's mother either. 

The only family Kakashi really has is this tall blond who goes by Minato— who happens to be some kind of long-term friend or something, Obito's not sure yet) and _his_ family— a redheaded wife named Kushina and a sunny toddler named Naruto. They visit each other a decent bit, but Obito is never given any answers about their connection. One thing's for certain, though, and _this_ is an irrefutable fact— Minato and Kakashi have _no_ blood ties. There's just no damn way. 

Obito's ears twitch as he hears the closing of a door, and he nearly curses himself aloud at how foolish he is for getting so out of focus. Obito has to check his watch for the time before reassuring himself that Kakashi probably just went to take a shower and he hasn't missed anything important. 

Obito doesn't move for a moment, now fully sitting on the grass, trying to relax his cramping knees and ankles. He feels the unpleasant sensations begin to ebb away as he brings his knees to his chest. He grunts, sighs, and allows himself to truly mull over his next course of action. 

Bakashi will be going to bed after he finishes his shower, so should he just leave now? Usually, he likes to stay and make sure Kakashi gets to sleep easy, but _tomorrow's the anniversary, the special day,_ and he wants to do something special for it. He's going to have to celebrate alone, though, but he still wants to treat himself. 

It's already been a year. 

It's so difficult to comprehend the passing of time. 

It's been a year of many ups and downs, like when Obito had completely fucking shattered the bone of his forearm and had to stay in the hospital for, like, a week as he got an implant for it. He had to stay in his house and take it easy for _forever,_ so he couldn't visit Kakashi for a while. His grandmother had died earlier in the year, too, which left him feeling empty and dull. He had to come to terms with the fact that he no longer has anyone to care for him, but he's a legal adult now, so he supposes it's not too much of a problem. For that period of time, he'd been too sad to even think of Kakashi, but he'd pulled through. Kakashi had helped get him through the grief.

Regardless, he ended up here, right in _his_ patch of grass, right where he should be.

Maybe he'll stay a little longer tonight. To watch Kakashi sleep for a bit longer than he usually allows himself. He's earned it, he's entitled to it, especially after such a long, trying year. Besides, he has all that time to make up for when he was away in the hospital recovering. It's not like Kakashi's neighbors will notice anyways— they never do.

For now, though, he'll stay here, sitting nice and fucking patient until Kakashi gets to sleep. Patience has never been one of his strengths, but he thinks he can handle it for a few minutes tonight. It's only eleven-thirty in the evening. He has plenty of time, and he passes it by toying with the drawstrings on his hoodie, worrying one between his teeth as he fidgets with the boxcutter in his pocket— a thing for self-defense, and nothing else. He sits there for what feels like half an hour before giving in and checking his watch. It tells him that only six minutes have passed. 

_Fuck this._

Obito stands up, legs a little wobbly from having been out of use for so long, and takes a deep breath. He considers leaving for a moment, to get in his car and fuck off somewhere and maybe come back later when Kakashi's sure to be asleep, but he's too impatient for that. He's been waiting all week for this.

So he walks, heart in his throat, feeling it beating erratically as an almost entirely unpleasant feeling begins to pool in his stomach. He approaches the front door, looking at it grow larger as he gets closer, thinking as if he's approaching a portal to another life. In the full year that he's been doing this, he's never dared step foot near the porch— he felt as if doing so would be putting himself at risk, and crossing so many lines that didn't _need_ to be crossed. He reaches a tentative hand out, fingertips brushing on the cool metal of the doorknob. His breaths become less controlled. 

He's really doing this, and he can hardly contain his excitement, the outstanding stress, the anticipation for what world awaits him behind that door tonight. 

Obito's hand descends the rest of the way, closing in on the knob and twisting it gently, as if it were made out of fine china. The door easily gives way, and he has to _scoff_ at how easy Kakashi's made it for him. He slowly, carefully, opens the door, similar to when he was a child and had been up past his bedtime, hungry for a late-night snack and scared that he would wake his fitful grandmother up in the process. 

He closes the door behind him, wincing at the small creak and click of it shutting, and he finds himself in a state of wonder. He observes his surroundings, and wraps his arms around his middle. Looking through a window is one thing, but actually being in the house he's coveted for so long is something in a different realm. The bookshelf is cleaner than it looked from outside, and all the books and few knickknacks look bigger and more real now. Now that he's here, no longer an outsider looking in, everything feels far less untouchable. 

As he looks around the living room, he notices the sound of water running in the next room, and that same stressful and excitable feeling in his gut increases tenfold as he realizes how _close_ he is, how far this year has gotten them. 

As he waits for the distant sound of water to stop, he entertains himself by reading the book Kakashi had left for him on the table. He slowly sits on the left side of the couch— Kakashi's side, he realizes, and relishes the feeling— and leans back so he's resting against the backrest. He's only a little disappointed that there's no lingering body heat left, but he's not too upset about it, because everything else tonight has been going excellently for him. He gently grasps the novel in one hand and brings it to his center, joining his other hand as he thumbs along the raised letters of the title. _Make-Out Tactics,_ some trashy-sounding romance novel that's so typical of Kakashi that Obito almost slips up and laughs. Instead he grins, flipping to the page Kakashi had marked before setting the book down.

He unfolds the corner once absentmindedly just to refold it as he wrinkles his nose, reading the contents of the page. Groaning, whimpering, begging and pleading— it's _porn,_ and Obito's shocked to see the smut in this book because Kakashi reads this in public and—

_Kakashi reads porn in public._

The thought sends such a nervous and perverse thrill down his spine that he has to put the book back down and take a breath. Fortunately enough, the second he does so is the moment that he hears the water stop running in the bathroom, and hears a few brief footsteps after. Good. Kakashi won't be too long now.

Maybe he should be waiting in the bedroom? Obito considers it, _really_ considers it, before deciding two minutes or so later that he shouldn't make his presence known tonight. For now, he's satisfied by just watching the man sleep up close, and taking his leave after about thee hours. It's a good plan. 

_God,_ Obito's so excited. He's bouncing his leg and his breaths come out shaky and uncontrolled. The squirming in his stomach rages unabashed at the thought of being in the same room as Kakashi. To get to hear the slow, deep breaths, the rustling of sheets as he shifts, to get to _see_ the twitches in his muscles as he dreams, all just for him and only him, it's enough to drive Obito wild. 

But he stays put. As much as he can't believe that this is reality, he has to control himself, practice some restraint, because he doesn't want to ruin this. He won't let it build up inside and spill over. 

He sits there for a good while, listening absently as the bathroom door swings open and footsteps recede and come to a stop, as he watches the clock. It's only about fifteen minutes before it strikes twelve, and he sits even longer, patient through and through for the first few minutes of their anniversary day. He waits another twenty before finally getting to the main event— going to Kakashi's room. 

Obito toes off his shoes by the door where Kakashi had left his own, taking just a second to enjoy the look of their shoes together, before walking lightly towards Kakashi's room. As he gets through the carpeted living room and to the tiled kitchen, he's met with a few small creaks that stop him in his tracks each time. After he's reassured that the small noises haven't disrupted Kakashi's sleep, he moves on, advancing closer to the bedroom. His footsteps are nowhere to be heard. 

It's when he reaches the open bedroom door that he begins to hesitate. It's almost like he's being set up— everything tonight has gone so smoothly, and now, the final thing keeping Kakashi and himself apart is wide open, begging him to come inside? Obito doesn't want to believe that it could be so easy. When he peeks inside though, leaning his head in slowly, ever so slowly, he realizes that _yes,_ it's been so easy all this time. From the doorway, Obito can hear the sleeping man's steady, deep breaths, and briefly considers staying there at the doorway just to be safe. 

As he continues to watch, though, barely able to make out Kakashi's facial features from the distance and the dark, he concludes that it simply isn't enough. To him, Kakashi is everything and more. 

Solemn. Hypnotic. Bathed in possession. 

_This_ is where Obito belongs. If only he could stay here for the rest of his life.

He enters the room.

His eyes never leave Kakashi's figure as he moves. Kakashi's facing him, laying on his side, all broad shoulders and a strong dip in his side silhouetted by yellow sheets. Obito's never really gotten a good look at the shorter man's room, so he takes the time to observe it now that he has the chance. 

One, the nightstand has an analog clock on it that displays the time in green numbers. There's an Iowa poster right above that table, which Obito is pleased to see. On the wall opposite of the bed is the window, which Obito is all too familiar with, the curtains drawn back as usual and wide open for viewing pleasure. What the window couldn't see, however, is a small photo on the soft green wall. 

It's a photo of Kakashi and that Naruto kid, but there are two others that Obito is displeased to learn that he doesn't quite recognize. There's a kid who looks similar to himself, just a lot younger, and much more pale and grumpy-looking. Then there's a pink-haired girl (who let her dye her hair so young?) with a forehead on the larger side and a red dress. The boy is standing beside the girl, whose next to Naruto, and Kakashi is standing behind them, playful hands on the boys' heads. He's left to wonder what those kids really mean to him.

He doesn't ponder on it too long before getting once again distracted by the demanding presence of Kakashi in the room. He pads over to the bed and sits near the head, looking closely at the enigmatic man's sleeping features. He's finally able to be up close and see every perfection and imperfection— the way his eyes flutter a bit, the slight twitches in his eyebrows, the soft frown of his lips that's almost not there. He can see the small pores of his skin, the smooth texture of his light complexion, the lone mole on the side of his chin. Jesus, it takes everything in him to stop himself from tearing the sheets away, jumping on top and running his fingers through wet silver hair, feel the damp skin pressed against every inch of himself—

 _Not today,_ Obito shakes his head, chiding himself, _control yourself. Not today, not today._

He finds it hard to restrain himself, though. It becomes challenging with each passing minute, but he manages for a while. He etches each second into his brain, studies each breath and twitch of muscle, the pinching of delicately thin eyebrows. He wants to live in this moment forever, and not a second less, but he can't, and he doesn't know when he'll go this far again, so he'll just have to do with the memory. 

He cherishes it. He permanently brans his brain with the sights and the sounds around him. Tonight won't happen again for a long time, because he doesn't want to push it. He easily loses track of time as he stares at an unresponsive face.

Then Kakashi takes a short breath. 

And he shifts, turns, faces away, slings an arm over his face as he begins to wake up. The telltale signs of consciousness alert Obito and get his heart going like crazy, and he knows his time with Kakashi has run out. He intends to move, no matter how sluggish his limbs might be from exhaustion, he just _has_ to get out, to not blow his cover, just go to his car and speed away to his shabby apartment. He doesn't though, just finds himself glued to the floor as Kakashi grunts— a sound he's too shocked to appreciate— and moves his arm away, looking at the clock and leaning up on his elbows. 

Seeing Kakashi awake, unaware of his presence, makes something begin to build up inside of Obito. He wants it to get out. 

He can't help himself. The last threads of common sense, of human decency plead with him to hide under the bed and make his escape when he has an opening, but it's all drowned out with that strange _something_ beginning to bubble up, and he can't help himself.

Obito jumps off from the floor, maneuvering himself on the bed quickly, clamping his knees on Kakashi's legs to stop the kicking, covering his mouth to conceal the shocked yell from those delicate pink lips. When those climactic hands press at Obito's chest, attempting to push him off, the thing building up spills over, and Obito quickly grabs both hands with one of his own. He pushes them back and to the headboard, and uses his hand on Kakashi's mouth to caress the soft, young skin.

He watches as Kakashi's eyes fill with fear, challenge, anger and confusion, all these things and others. It looks so perfect, _so good,_ and it almost makes Obito angry. 

"If I move my hand, you're not going to scream, are you?"

A beat of silence. Then, Kakashi shakes his head briefly and quickly. His eyes are so wide, so full of fear, begging him to let go.

It's driving Obito fucking insane. 

He lifts his hand, and doesn't miss the way Kakashi gasps before going back to breathing through his nose, lips drawn thin and nostrils flaring at the deep breaths. Obito trails the back of his hand along the side of Kakashi's face, feeling the strong cheekbones and tight, smooth skin. 

"God, you— you've got no idea..." Obito tries to speak, and finds himself just as breathless as Kakashi. His breathlessness, however, is fueled only by pure excitement, "...no idea how long I've wanted this."

He sees the man's— still a child, he's only sixteen— eyes well up with tears, but they don't spill over. As his eyes gloss over, Kakashi's brows pinch, and he gets this look on his face, akin to determination, but not quite, that only spells out bad news for Obito. Kakashi starts to thrash, shouting, growling, kicking up his legs again, and it takes everything in Obito to not lose his balance. He fights to stay in control for a long moment of frustration until he can finally pull out his boxcutter. He flicks it up and presses it to the base of Kakashi's neck, watching with an immense level of satisfaction as Kakashi instantly goes still under him, tense and rigid, but somewhat pliant. The room goes quiet, the only sound being Obito's harsh breaths.

Kakashi's eyes are stretched so wide, so unlike him, that it almost gets Obito fucking _aroused._

"It's been a while— Kakashi."

Obito says through quickened breaths, grinning through it all. Kakashi shuts his eyes but doesn't move his head, clearly afraid of digging the blade into his throat with how tight it's pressed to his skin. Obito's grin only goes wider at the idea. He wants to see Kakashi's perfect, untouchable skin dirtied by the color vermilion. 

He doesn't want to _hurt_ Kakashi, though. 

"I don't want you to get hurt. _Fuck,_ I won't hurt you unless you're asking for it."

Kakashi doesn't respond to him. It annoys him.

"Come on, now. Open your eyes. I just said I won't hurt you unless you make me. What's there to be afraid of?" Obito says gently, leaning in close so Kakashi can hear. 

Kakashi does as told, blinking open his eyes to shoot Obito a look, whispering, "you have a knife to my neck."

He's afraid. Why wouldn't he be? But the feeling of having so much power, being able to tell Kakashi what to do and be met with overwhelming acceptance is astounding. 

"Yeah, but it's there for assurance. Nothing to be scared of, sweetheart, I promise."

Kakashi doesn't respond to that, and instead attempts to observe Obito's face without looking him in the eye, clearly trying to figure out who he is. A few emotions flicker through his face, but nothing tells Obito that he's been recognized by the younger man. He's not shocked by it, or even sad for that matter, because Kakashi doesn't really _need_ to remember.

"We met in Suna one year ago today," Obito says fondly, the reminder of the anniversary making his heart thump in a strange new way, "and I needed help finding the plaza. You don't remember— that's fine."

Feeling Kakashi's muscles stay lax under him, not putting up a fight, is still throwing Obito for a loop. It's still going so perfectly, everything playing in his favor, and he takes a second to thank whatever god that's watching over him for giving him the right cards tonight. Kakashi's submitted under him, and _Jesus,_ it's such a pretty fucking picture that Obito could _cry._

"But I found you again, after that. A few days later, right in our town. I instantly recognized you— how could I not? You're fucking perfect— but anyways, I followed you here and kept visiting ever since," Obito rambles, loves talking to Kakashi, loves feeling his muscles respond to _him,_ "tonight's my first night in the house, though. It's very nice, the house you've got here. Better than my apartment. Not nearly as perfect as you are, though, that's for—"

Kakashi cuts him off when he begins to fight again, angry and wild, and he manages to catch Obito off-kilter. He bucks his hips to get Obito off of him, hiking a knee up to jab it in his stomach, and the movement fucking _hurts._ He rolls out from under Obito, who dropped his blade somewhere in the sheets. He's busy recovering from the blow and searching for the boxcutter that he doesn't pay attention to Kakashi gaining his composure on the floor. By the time Kakashi stands, Obito sits up as well, and they both get a good look at each other before Kakashi turns, runs, closes the door behind him and leaves Obito stunned.

Snapping out of his stupor, Obito pats his hands rapidly on the yellow blanket, trying to feel for warm metal, before his fingers graze the rigged grip and he grabs it. He stabs himself in the process, but rights the blade in his hand as he charges after the boy, yanking the door open and running to the living room. It's there that he finds Kakashi, just about to open the door, and he charges, knocking the small hand away from the doorknob and twisting him into a chokehold. Kakashi struggles, lets out a scream, and Obito can't have that. 

The neighbors will hear. Oh, _fuck,_ they'll call the cops if they hear.

It happens in a span of three seconds. Obito lifts his hand, clenching onto the blade in a tense fist, and rakes it against Kakashi's throat in fear. He can practically hear the flesh and cartilage give way under the edge of the small blade. He's met with resistance from the skin, the veins, but he cuts through repeatedly, making sure he's doing it enough. 

Vermilion goes everywhere. He almost loses his grip on the blade from the volume of it on his hands.

He feels the way Kakashi's tense body stays rigid for a moment, slowly going still as his hands on Obito's arm claw at his skin slower and weaker, until they drop to his sides. The fight leaves his body, and the muscles loosen as he slumps, lifeless, neck leaking vermilion as gurgling breathing stops.

Obito lets out a breath, and begins to buckle as he's met with Kakashi's whole weight— which isn't a lot, but Obito's never been too physically strong— so he drops them both on the ground, blood getting on his pants and clothes as he maneuvers Kakashi into a laying position on the living room carpet. 

He takes a good look at the mess they've made. Crimson, vermilion blood everywhere, on Kakashi's temples and his mutilated neck, on Obito's arms, on the carpet below them, in their eyes. Kakashi looks beautiful like this. The epitome of snuff. 

He waits for the guilt and the shame that are sure to follow after doing such a thing pool in his stomach lining— something that only _insane_ people do, and Obito's _not insane_ — but he doesn't get hit with it. He just stares, clueless as of what to do next. 

Kakashi won't be waking up anymore. Obito won't be able to watch him go to sleep ever again after tonight. Something about the way his windpipe is completely severed clues to that.

Obito slowly maneuvers himself on top of Kakashi, straddling the smaller's hips just like he'd done only minutes ago, and trails a shaking hand down Kakashi's face again. Down his cheek, to his jaw, down to his neck. He absently sticks his thumb in the wound, feeling the smooth, textured flesh give way, feeling inside in a sense of wonder. 

He did this. He's here, now, _feeling_ this. Feeling inside, something no other human can do. 

He pulls his thumb out, licking the blood away as he stares in Kakashi's eyes. Would Kakashi be attracted to that? Such a lewd, perverted action? Obito briefly remembers the contents of the book Kakashi read, and he wants the answer to be _yes,_ but he isn't sure. He can't come to any conclusions.

So he just opts to lean down, kissing unresponsive lips in the wake of blood and flavored chapstick. The kiss is simple yet endearing, and it's everything Obito dreamed it would be. When he pulls back to look in Kakashi's eyes again, he sees the other's grey irises looking past him, so distant and unfocused. Like Obito's not even there. He's not angry, though.

"It's okay, 'Kashi," Obito hums, caressing the other's ravaged neck, "you can't help it. And that's fine. Thank you. Thank you so, _so_ fucking much."

He stares in a renewed awe at the corpse below him, still oozing blood, blood that had been pumping throughout his body just ten minutes ago. He leans down, cradling Kakashi's head in his arms, pressing a kiss to each of the boy's temples before getting off and rolling to the side, lying down next to him.

 _This_ is what he has to show for the past year. He takes great pride in it. 

What a happy anniversary indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a psa. keep your doors locked, or else a crazy psychopathic lunatic will break into your house at night and claim to love you before killing you 😍👑
> 
> anyways I hope you liked it! This one is definitely different than what i usually write, and im sorry for any grammatical errors or any words being used repeatedly. i wanted to get it out today so i didnt proofread it at all. point any flaws out for me, please. im a little bit of a perfectionist. 
> 
> ((the neck cutting scene was inspired by the breaking bad scene where Jesse had just killed gale and gus fring slit his right-hand man's throat to prove a point to him and walter. he did it using a boxcutter. the name of the episode is, fittingly, "box cutter," and the lighting of the scenes that led up to that moment was absolutely perfect 🤩))


End file.
